


Feel the lives that I have taken (what little soul that I have left)

by eliseboobman (bechloehuh)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bechloehuh/pseuds/eliseboobman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You walk until you feel like your feet are bleeding. It’s hours before you realize that you have nothing but a gun and a shattered heart." - Clexa. Post-finale one shot, Clarke's POV. Mostly angst but with a happy ending (kind of)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel the lives that I have taken (what little soul that I have left)

_"and i lost hope when i was still so young / had an angel on my shoulder / but the devil always won / and oh, i lost it all when i got hurt / and i can feel you even now / breakin’ horses in the sky / i can taste you in my rage / and in the sweat upon my brow / and i went home / chasing twisters in the canyon / my cathedral is the badlands / dust and devils on my conscience / come back to me darlin’”_

– delta rae, chasing twisters

* * *

You walk away from Bellamy with your gun in your hand and tears in your eyes.

You don’t let them fall. You carry on walking and you don’t look back. You know that if you do, it’ll hurt even more. It’ll prove to be even harder than it already is. You know that the words _Camp Jaha_ will forever be floating in your head; the same way all those dead bodies in the mountain are embedded in your eyelids and Lexa’s last words to you are echoing in your mind and the taste of Lexa’s lips will forever be ingrained on your tongue.

You walk until you feel like your feet are bleeding.

It’s hours before you realize that you have nothing but a gun and a shattered heart.

It gets dark quick, and you feel like you should find somewhere to rest, but you can’t stop. You carry on walking because if you stop then you’ll collapse and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to get up again. Your gun is still gripped in your hand, and you’re sure that it’ll make permanent indentations in your skin if you don’t let go of it soon but you don’t care. You don’t dare.

You want to walk back to Mount Weather. You want to bury all the people that you killed, but you don’t think you can go back there. It’s selfish, but you can’t face what you’ve done. You can just about put up with the dreams you’ll inevitably have, but you can’t face the reality of it.

You stop at the river and you let go of your gun long enough to wash your hands and face. You soak your hands in the river for ten minutes before you realize that absolutely nothing will help wash the blood off of your hands. Not this time. You rub some water at the back of your neck, and you pick the gun back up. It’s the only thing keeping you safe but at the same time, it’s the only thing right now that could kill you.

But you don’t want to kill yourself.

You’ve come too far for it just to end like that.

Because no matter how many times your brain tells you different, you are strong. You are a murderer, but you’re strong. You’re a traitor, but you’re strong. You saved your people, and you are strong.

If you tell yourself enough times then you think you might be able to believe it.

But there’s a voice in your head is telling you that _the things you are feeling are all weaknesses_ , and that _you are what you are_ , and _you did the right thing_ , and _you were born for this, Clarke_ and they’re making you dizzy and you can’t think properly and you want it to end. You’ve had enough.

The voice in your head sounds a lot like Lexa.

You go to Wells’ grave first. You don’t know why your feet brought you here, but it’s getting dark already and you think that maybe he will be able to keep you safe just one more time. The flowers you had brought him the last time you were here are still there, but they’re dead and wilting, and you replace them with new, fresh ones.

You tell him everything that happened at Mount Weather. You choke through every other sentence, but you don’t cry. You find it harder to tell him about Lexa, but you still manage to do it. You tell him that she is a great leader, that her people are loyal and respectful to her, and they listen to every word she says. You tell him that she was brave, and a great warrior, and that she showed no sign of weakness. You tell him how her lips felt against yours, and that it was so convincing, the way she kissed you. As if she actually cared for you.

As if she loved you.

You sigh. You sigh because you’re tired and you’re scared and you’re lonely. You’re finally alone, in peace, but the demons in your head make it impossible for you to think straight, and you don’t even have time to set up camp before you lay yourself down next to Wells’ grave and fall asleep.

You dream of Dante’s face after you shot him, and the scabs and boils on Maya’s face as Jasper held her in his arms for the very last time.

In the time it takes for you to dream of what happened in the mountain three times over, two grounders pass you. They know who you are. They know you took down the mountain. Clarke of the sky people is a legend among them.

They know you shouldn't be out here all alone.

* * *

A few days later, when you’ve walked a few miles more, it starts to rain.

It’s raining heavily. Heavier than you’ve ever seen it. You know exactly which way it is back to camp but you can’t go back. You refuse to go back to the drop ship too, even though you know it’s perfectly safe and it has good shelter. It reminds you of all the grounders you killed all those weeks ago. You still have two rounds left in your gun, after having used four of them for hunting three squirrels.

You know it doesn’t count but you add those three deaths to your list and you hate yourself for it.

You’re a murderer.

On your twelfth day alone, you find a bunker. There’s a rock just outside of it, so you sit on it and you wait. It could belong to somebody, and you don’t want to risk going in there and getting shot or stabbed. That, and it’s kind of rude to walk into someone’s property without permission. You may be a murderer but at least you have manners.

You count up to 60 seconds twenty nine times before you get tired of waiting.

You bang on the door, and you wait. Nothing happens. You knock again, but nobody appears. You only have one bullet left in your gun, and you don’t even hesitate when you shoot the lock on the door. It’s heavy, and it takes a while, but you finally manage to get it open.

The door only opens half way, so you squeeze inside and use the light shining in from outside to see if there are any torches. You find one on a table just near the doorway and turn it on, and it lights up the room. It’s smaller than you expected, but it’ll do. At least until you find somewhere else to call home.

You’re starting to wonder if home even means anything to you anymore.

You use the torch to locate some candles, and it takes you a while to finally find some matches. You light them all except two and spread them out across the bunker so it illuminates the whole room. Due to the lighting, you now notice that there’s an actual place for a fire, and it takes some doing, but you finally get it lit.

The bunker in itself isn’t much, but it’s a place to sleep, and you’re certain that nobody lives here. There’s no food, only a few bottles of something – whiskey or some other liquor, you presume – and you’re not sure if you can survive off of just that alone. There’s a bed on the far right, with pillows and two blankets on it, and there’s an actual bathroom to the side, with an actual sink – though you doubt it works – and actual toilet paper. It feels like you haven’t seen toilet paper in years, and there’s actual towels in a small cupboard and you’re probably way too excited than you’re supposed to be.

The excitement lasts you about three minutes before you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above the sink and you remember what you did.

It’s the first time you’ve seen yourself in a mirror in two weeks, and you flinch at the sight of yourself, because it’s not you. You’re somebody who you promised yourself that you’d never be, and you wonder, for a second, if your dad is looking down at you.

He wouldn’t be proud of you. Why should he?

His only child is a murderer.

Before you know it, you’re sobbing in front of the mirror, and you hate yourself even more. You try to choke back the tears, just like all those other times, but it doesn’t work. You’ve been strong for too long, and you need this. You need to rid yourself of all these emotions before the bottle you’ve been storing them in overflows and causes you to drown.

You end up punching a wall, and it bruises your knuckles within minutes. It hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the heavy pressure on your heart as you think about everybody you’ve let down.

You go to sleep, and you dream the words ‘may we meet again’ into oblivion, until you’re awakened by your own screams.

* * *

You’re getting weaker and you’re not sure how long you have left.

You have no bullets left in your gun, and you’re not as trained as some people when it comes to hunting. You found a draw full of knives and forks and spoons in the bunker, and you try, for hours, to catch something, but you only come across two squirrels and they’re too quick for you.

You last another two days eating berries before you collapse just outside of the bunker.

The world feels like it’s slowing down, and everything is moving in slow motion, and you feel sick. But you have nothing to throw up, so you dry heave a few times before your head becomes too heavy and you drop it to the ground. You can hardly breathe, and you’re cold, and you feel like you’re sinking through the earth.

You wonder if this is what it feels like to die.

You’re finally dying.

You dream of your mother. You dream of the look on her face when Bellamy tells her that you left, and the cries she lets out at night when she thinks of how she’s failed at protecting you. You dream of Raven, and how she’s still managed to stay strong despite everything she’s been through. You dream of Lexa, and how she was right. She did do what you would have done.

That’s the worst dream you have.

When you wake up, the first thing you see is sunlight and trees, and the first thing you hear is the rustling of the leaves against one another.

It’s peaceful, and for a second you forget where you are.

The second thing you hear is Lexa.

“Osir na set raun na kom sheidgeda.”

“Sheidgeda ste komba raun snap, Heda.”

Everything is blurry and it’s too bright, and you’re not sure if this is still a dream or not.

“Nou get yu daun, Nyko.”

You contemplate on just staying there, and leaving yourself to die. Your usual, stubborn self would not ask for help.

But you’re not you anymore.

You manage to choke out a “help”, until you realize that you’re still too weak to be heard, and you can’t even lift your head up off of the ground. You clear your throat, and say it again. Again, and again, until you feel like you’re loud enough.

You don’t deserve anybody’s help, but you ask for it anyway.

Your head is pounding and it gets worse when the floor starts to shake underneath you, and you think it might be an earthquake or something, or this is finally the end. But then you hear someone talking in Trigedasleng, and then you hear Lexa again, and this time it feels real.

You blink your eyes open, and you just have enough time to see Lexa’s worried face, and hear her yell “sou nou teik em wan op!” before everything goes black again.

* * *

This time, you wake up in a bed of animal furs.

You can tell because it’s the first time you’ve been warm in weeks.

You breathe in, hold it for four seconds, and then breathe out. You don’t feel as dizzy and disoriented anymore, but you still have a headache. You notice that you don’t feel as weak, and your stomach actually feels like it has something in it, and your mouth isn’t as dry from not having any water. You open your eyes and sit up, and you feel your heart speed up at the sight of Lexa slouched on a chair. She doesn’t have any battle armor or war paint on and she looks so young and beautiful, and you hate yourself for thinking that.

You clear your throat, and her head shoots in your direction, and she stands up immediately.

“Clarke.” She says, and you close your eyes as you swing your legs off of the edge of the bed. You count to three, and stand up.

You still manage to get dizzy, and you have to keep your eyes closed to steady yourself.

When you open them, Lexa seems to have moved a step closer to you.

“Your body is very weak, Clarke. You should lie down.”

You stare at her, because you don’t know what to say or do or feel. You are tired, but you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that you’re listening to her.

“I don’t know how long you were passed out, but it is very important that you rest.”

You take a step closer to her, and you notice that she’s not armed, and Indra isn’t here. Nobody is here but the two of you, and you find yourself thinking that you could do it now. Kill Lexa and get it over with. You won’t have to see her again. But you know for a fact that you couldn’t do that, so you do the next best thing.

You punch her.

You reel your fist back, and you punch her as hard as you can. So hard that you hear her jaw click, and your already-bruised knuckles crack.

She doesn’t do anything. You can see her clenching her jaw, but she doesn’t cry or scream or yell like you expected. She looks at you, and you feel your bottom lip quivering before you collapse into her arms.

“Get off! Don’t touch me!” You’re screaming but she doesn’t listen to you, and you don’t have the energy in you to struggle against her. You let her hold you as you sob into her shoulder, and you can feel her hand stroking your back as you grip so hard onto her skin that you’ll probably leave bruises, but she doesn’t falter. She holds you, until you have no more tears left to cry.

You know that she loves you.

It hurts, but it’s obvious. It’s shown in the way she looks at you, the way she holds you, the way she cares about you, the way she will do anything for you. But she betrayed you, and you hate her for that.  You hate her. But she’s still holding you, and she’s still loving you. And you do something that you swore you’d never do.

You love her back.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> “Osir na set raun na kom sheidgeda.” (We will wait for nightfall.)  
> “Sheidgeda ste komba raun snap, Heda.” (Night is approaching fast, Commander.)  
> “Nou get yu daun, Nyko.” (Stop worrying, Nyko.)  
> “Sou nou teik em wan op!” (don't let her die!)
> 
> follow me on tumblr @ eliseboobman.tumblr.com, watch me breakdown over this beautiful ship


End file.
